


Dearest Forgotton Child

by Seeryvi



Category: Forgotton Anne (Video Game)
Genre: Abandoned Anne (Forgotton Anne), Angst, Anne (Forgotton Anne) As A Baby, Character Death, Child Abandonment, Death, Gen, Guilt, Headcanon, Heavy Angst, How Anne Became A Forgotling, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, It’s the story of how her mother abandoned her, I’m back baby!, One Shot, POV Third Person, Pre-Canon, Short One Shot, Still creating tags you see, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Why is nothing I write ever sweet???, no beta we die like men, or whatever really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:21:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25965019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seeryvi/pseuds/Seeryvi
Summary: Just how exactly did it happen that Anne was forgotten?Why is it that no one remembered her?...And what about her mother?(Short story from Anne’s Mother’s POV, third person)
Kudos: 3





	Dearest Forgotton Child

**Author's Note:**

> This was just my friend and me talking about Forgotton Anne until I was hit with a new headcanon...
> 
> More thoughts in the notes at the bottom!
> 
> (Deals with a lot of guilt regarding abandoning your child, hints at abuse AND read the archive warning if you must!!)

A small step. Another small step. One after the other in rapid succession echoed through the streets as the woman’s shoes sounded hard against the dirtied pavement. In the dark of the night not even the few, widely spread out street lights could help in showing the tears running down her cheeks hidden beyond a hood; tears which were discretely dropping to the depths below.

They would go unnoticed. Forgotten. Just like her.

Her mind screamed at her to turn around, to run back to the little bridge, to jump into the water and pull out what she had so carelessly discarded— _Who_ , she corrected herself. _Who_ she had so carelessly discarded. That little child with barely any hair covering their head in pale red, brown eyes staring up at her filled with questions. Her hand gripped onto the fabric of her hood, tightly, clutching onto it with such strength her fingernails left crescent shapes in her palm even through the cloth.

_Anne, Anne, Anne._

The name wouldn’t stop chanting in her head. She knew it was her fault. She knew she could have just turned a blind eye to the father, taken the child and run. But then again, _he_ wouldn’t have let her—she was certain of that. All their life together he had made it inherently clear that it had to be his way and his way only. The long, dark clothes hiding her body weren’t just meant to aid her in blending in with the night after all.

_Anne, Anne, I’m so sorry._

Would the child even survive such an arduous journey? Would her sweet little baby be taken in by someone who would love her the way she never could? The way she never was and never would be allowed to try? Even now time seemed to be ticking by fast as he had given her no more than a couple minutes to fulfill the deed—the terrible, inhumane deed of discarding your child as if mere rubbish left to decay in the streets.

If she’d take any longer there would be consequences, she was sure. A hand quickly moved from its steely grasp to wipe on the tears clouding her vision, smearing remnants of mascara over her eyelid coloring them a charcoal black.

_Anne, Anne, you’ll have a better life than I could have ever given you, I promise._

But could she even make such a promise? Left in a little wooden boat wrapped in a blanket for warmth and pushed out into the water to drift along the river until it reached a destination? Her child could end up anywhere; from somewhere better to somewhere much, _much_ worse.

She stopped. Why oh why did she even think this was a remotely good idea? Her feet felt glued to the ground, imbedded in cement leaving her no room to escape as she contemplated her decisions. Her heart appeared to try and summon the gods as it hammered against her rib cage like drums chanting for a ritual. Her face grew hot and hotter still, as if already burning in hell for the one, the worst of all crimes she could have possibly committed.

_Anne, no. I’m coming for you._

This was too much to ask of a mother, too much. Even though conceiving Anne had never been planned, abortion had never been a possibility either. He wouldn’t have allowed it. He hadn’t wanted an abortion, for abortion was ‘wrong’. She didn’t agree with him, but it just so happened that she had always wanted a child of her own. And so she just didn’t want to let go of what was slowly growing within her, didn’t want to let go of something potentially growing into a child she could love. A child maybe even he could learn to love.

Throughout the entirety of her pregnancy she had tried over and over again to make him love the idea of a child as much as she had done from the very moment she had heard the news. It was the little things, from a little kick against the inside of her belly in the later months, to possible dream scenarios of growing up and old together. Yet there was always clear disdain and hatred in his voice when he replied with the same statement he had always replied with. That the child was to be gotten rid of as soon as it was born.

_Maybe it’s better for Anne to be gone and away from him._

She froze once more, like a deer caught in the headlights. Like a mother making a decision she shouldn’t be forced to make. Trying to take your child with you even though he wouldn’t allow it? Even though you couldn’t be sure that he wouldn’t just up and get rid of them as soon as you turned a blind eye even if just to sleep? Or would you abandon your child in hopes of them finding a better home? Even though the chances of them finding one floating along the river seemed miniscule at best?

After all, she wasn’t even allowed to hand Anne over to a loving family for adoption. No one should have a child with his genes that wasn’t him, he had said. Over and over again.

_He wants Anne to die._

Even though the realization took her much longer than she would have liked, it all suddenly clicked in her head. Her feet took running before she had even finished the thought, pebble getting kicked by her steps as she once more sprinted through the streets, taking turns left and right to find the quickest way back to the river. Anne must still be somewhere there, she was sure. It didn’t take her too long, right? She could still take her and raise her and love her, right? Even if she had to run from him. Even if she had to hide, for he had his web woven and spun all over, tangling up shop keepers and even police officers who thought him a wonderful husband and her a terrible wife. He would make them look for her. He would make them believe her to be insane as her child was taken from her. As he would do god knows what to Anne—and blame it on an accident.

No. The locks of hair on her head bounced and blinded her vision as she shook it fiercely to clear her thoughts, feet coming to a stillstand. No, she could escape, right? She would find a place to stay with Anne, she could watch Anne grow old and live a beautiful and fulfilling life together.

Right?

The screeching of tires, the scream of brakes and a person’s desperate yell were few of the things that abruptly collided with her mind, managing to reach her ears before something hard collided with her side, sending her sprawling across the air and onto the worn down street a couple meters off. Everything hurt; everything hurt so much she almost fell numb, almost couldn’t feel at all. There were shouts, voices that called for attention but all she could understand was her own voice ringing in her head as if a worn down record that got stuck on an endless repeat.

What about her child? What about dear little Anne? Who would take care of Anne now? Nobody but him and her even knew of Anne’s existence; he had made sure if that. He had already went and told everyone that she had had a miscarriage, that she was expected to grieve for a while but that he is already trying his best to move on. He hadn’t even entertained the thought of naming their child. He hadn’t even heard the name she had picked for their baby.

_Anne..._

The whisper didn’t even manage to break through her cracked lips and into the open, not reaching any of the cluster of people surrounding her in a frenzy. Her breathing slowly became too painful to continue, an almost comfortable warmth spreading somewhere around her chest and enclosing her like a thick blanket as the noises around her faded to deafening silence. Dark spots started to black out her vision like little stars grazing the firmament until the only thing she was aware of were her own thoughts.

_Dearest Anne._

_I am so sorry for abandoning you, for having failed as a mother. Please know that I will always love you, dear._

And as she allowed the strain and exhaustion to win and finally closed her eyes, not only one life disappeared from this world.

**Author's Note:**

> I might have to proofread it later again, for now I just wanted to yeet this idea into the world!
> 
> So, I was thinking, that Anne couldn’t have been forgotten if her mother was still alive. Because I doubt you’d ever forget about the child you abandoned under a bridge...in a little wooden something.  
> Why did she even do that...?  
> And why are only two humans living in the Forgotling world? My friend and I thought that it must be difficult to be completely forgotten by everyone, because most of the time something still lives on as a memory. But when no one knows Anne (or her father not knowing about Anne as a person + name) and her mother dies? The last memory of Anne dies with her.
> 
> Also, Anne entered the Forgotling world rather quickly, didn’t she?
> 
> Anyways! Headcanon!
> 
> See ya!


End file.
